


Where'd Everybody Go

by DoubleL27



Category: Schitt's Creek
Genre: Gen, Introspection, Mild Angst, Post-Finale, Post-Season/Series 06, changes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-09
Updated: 2021-01-09
Packaged: 2021-03-13 16:00:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 918
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28656120
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DoubleL27/pseuds/DoubleL27
Summary: Change is a good thing, but there are moments where it's hard to see that.
Relationships: Stevie Budd & Alexis Rose, Stevie Budd & David Rose, Stevie Budd & Herself, Stevie Budd & Johnny Rose, Stevie Budd & Moira Rose
Comments: 9
Kudos: 62





	Where'd Everybody Go

**Author's Note:**

  * For [RhetoricalQuestions](https://archiveofourown.org/users/RhetoricalQuestions/gifts).



> This is an old prompt fill for RQ based on season six spoilers, and going through my drafts folder I decided to polish it up and publish it in full. The world always needs a little more Stevie.
> 
> The title is from Noah Reid's "I Miss Writing Songs." I have a brand to maintain.

Stevie thought the hardest day would be the day Mr. and Mrs. Rose left. Alexis had always been a rare frequenter of the office, unless she needed a printer, and David was half moved in with Patrick already. Mr. and Mrs. Rose, however, had been a ubiquitous part of the hotel, even before Mr. Rose had taken up the managerial duties for the Rosebudd. 

After though, he was always in the office, often needing some support. Mrs. Rose was a frequent and verbose comment box user and a rare front desk fill in. Stevie wasn’t sure if it would count as a day in the front office without Mrs. Rose gliding in and saying something like “Just a minuscule exhortation for rectification, Stevie,” as she tapped paper into the box with her carefully manicured nails. 

The first day is spent in a hungover haze and is not the worst. David and Patrick pass out in the stripped bed in Room 7 while Alexis tugs her in Room 8 for a few hours of sleep. Stevie gets up at ten to start handling check-out alone for the first time in years. She badgers David and Patrick into turning over Room 7 because they slept on the bed while she handles the Brewer cousins who are departing that day.

The next two weeks aren’t all that different. She’s busy hiring on a few new bodies for when she’s off setting up other motels, including assistant manager Anong, who is finishing up her degree in hospitality management online at Elmdale community—go figure. Alexis is in and out of the office to print things and to ask for opinions on studio apartments from an expert and if conversations sound sketchy. David is by daily to look at various clothes and decide what is coming with him to Patrick’s apartment until they close on the house, and asking Stevie to give opinions on things for the house and then hating everything she picks. Just like any other day.

The worst day arrives about two weeks after they send Alexis off to New York, all of her things tied on top of Patrick’s car like the day they went to the slaughter venue. David and Patrick closed on the house and nothing of David lives here anymore, even the love room cleared of their shared closet. David comes to the office less and less, until the day he shows up and it’s not Stevie behind the counter, and then he doesn’t come at all. Instead, they meet at the cafe, or the store, or his new house or her apartment. 

Stevie looks up from the procedures binder Patrick helped her put together for her trip down to London and the next motel she’s due to set up in a week to find a mousy-haired girl poking inside the office. She’s wearing an oversized sweatshirt that covers most of her hands and her bangs cover one eye.

“Uh, hey,” the girl asks in a voice that’s lower than Stevie would have expected, “we’re out of towels in room 8. Would you-when you get a chance could you drop some off?”

It’s the first time someone who isn’t a Rose has asked for towels for Room 8, since David asked her thrice. Tears prick at her eyes, sharp and stupid and Stevie regrets that the ponytail doesn’t let her cover her face.

Instead, Stevie hops off the stool, turning to face the back wall and giving a quick swipe of her eyes before walking out from behind the counter. “Yeah, I’ve just gotta get them from upstairs.”

“Oh, I didn’t want to be a bother if you’re busy,” her guest says, all apologies. 

Once upon a time, she would have spent the whole day posted up behind the desk with a book and a game of solitaire, not a person to bother her. Instead, she is preparing to go teach other people how to run a Rosebud Motel. She cares, and it’s all the Roses’ fault. She waves at the guest as she makes her way to the stairs. 

“Don’t worry about it,” Stevie forces herself to quip. “Last guy who stayed in Room 8 called me rude for not getting his towels fast enough.”

“That’s awful.”

The vision of David in his leather jacket and white shirt, arms folded, all sharp angles takes shape in her head. _I take that as a compliment._ her own voice snaps back in her head. Now, David is softer and her sarcasm is muted with strangers.

Stevie’s foot hits the bottom stair and she manages a smile. “Yeah, well, that’s customer service. I’ll bring them to your room in a few minutes.”

“Thanks so much!” she chirps.

Stevie pounds up the stairs as Room 8 backs out of the office. She squeezes her eyes shut before she enters the storage room. She’s having dinner with David. Mr. Rose will be on a conference call with her tomorrow which Mrs. Rose will undoubtedly crash. Alexis just sent her a picture of a man in hot pants and nothing else in the center of New York City with a wild array of emojis. They may not be in the motel anymore, but they didn’t leave her. 

Stevie forces herself to pull towels off the shelf and then takes out her phone and takes a picture.

**The new guest in Room 8 knows how to ask for towels nicely so they don’t have to ask thrice. You owe me a pizza.**


End file.
